


Creature Comforts

by Paper_Pluviophile



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Brotherly Angst, Comfort/Angst, Everything is not alright, Lies, Oneshot, Other, POV Second Person, Sad, Sans Has Issues, Sans Has Night Terrors, Short & Sweet, with Pap~
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-26
Updated: 2016-02-26
Packaged: 2018-05-23 02:52:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6102415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paper_Pluviophile/pseuds/Paper_Pluviophile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes your scarf goes missing. Of course, the Great Papyrus has figured out this puzzle, and it would be little more than a hindrance - if it didn't help your brother. Or so you hope it does.</p>
<p>A.K.A Sans has issues and Papyrus is just trying to be a good brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Creature Comforts

**Author's Note:**

> God knows this fandom needs fluff and happiness amidst all the sadness. I have both~

Sometimes your scarf goes missing.

It's rather odd, considering that you hardly ever remove the treasured garment, frayed and tattered as it is. Your "battle body" would be incomplete and incompetent without it after all! From time to time though while cooking you set it down on the table (you didn't want to spill spaghetti sauce on it after all) and it would up and vanish. Surely you'd remember misplacing it. At first you assumed it was that annoying white dog thieving away with it but you've long since solved this puzzle.

You know your brother is a piece in it too.

Really, it should be a nuisance to you. All that time spent searching when you could be out and about re-calibrating puzzles! Baking spaghetti! Training! Patrolling for humans! Digging through the dump! But - as it is you don't loathe the occasional hunt for your scarf. In fact you welcome it!

It helps Sans. At least you like to hope so. Yes! It must.

Take today for example. You've spent a decent amount of time "searching" for your "missing" scarf but at long last you stand before your room. He's chosen here for the same reason that he takes it when _he_ thinks you're not looking, _you_ think.

For once you attempt to whisper your steps and inch the door open so it doesn't creak. It's strange, to be easing your way into your own room like some kind of intruder, but you don't want to wake Sans just yet. Per usual the lethargic sentry is snoozing. He's pressed back against the headboard of your race car bed with his face buried in your precious possession. Your brother looks fragile.

You take a moment to contemplate this thought while gingerly taking a seat at the end of your bed. Sans is huddled up in a fetal position on his side, knees pulled up to his chest but arms swathed in the worn garnet fabric, cheekbone cushioned against it. His shoulders do not rise or fall with the motion of breath (a skeleton having no need for oxygen) and he is perfectly still. In moments like these you feel he could crumble to dust at any given moment. Not on your watch, however! You are here, with him, of course, to prevent such a horrible thing, to hold him together with happiness and the love of the greatest brother!

Very carefully you scoot closer and rest your hand on his shoulder, shaking very gently. 

Sometimes Sans wakes up violently, sometimes not. Sometimes he jerks up with a frenzied flare of magic scathing across his pupil, and sometimes not. Sometimes he cries and clings to you...most of the time.

"Sans. It's time to get up, lazybones." You monitor the volume of your voice - a bit of a struggle, but certainly not enough a task for the Great Papyrus.

This time he struggles slowly against the sludge of nightmares slogging through his cranium, scarf scrunched up in a vice grip as if's clinging to a dwindling lifeline. Before you can move or speak again Sans rockets up with that soft, soft scarf of yours and clasps it to his chest for dear life. Magic sparks and crackles along bones and the metal framework of your bed with a  _pop!_ that you don't think is healthy.

And then you hug him. Phalanges rasp against bone when you stroke his skull and you clack your jaw in a way that you hope comforts him. "SANS, YOU SKIPPED YOUR SHIFT AGAIN!" You talk as if the two of you were having an average, everyday conversation. "DO NOT FRET, HOWEVER. I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, COVERED FOR YOU!"

Your brother is stiff in your embrace but soon recognizes your font. He realizes that you are here for him (and when are you not?). Realizes that everything is okay!

As before you lower your tone but it's still a tad of a challenge. "I see that you have found my scarf. THANK YOU! NYEH HEH HEH!" You smile, laugh a bit, don't release him quite yet. You're not too sure that he'd want that anyways. Plus you don't think you can worm away once he's hugging you back either.

*...heh. its no problem bro."

"WELL! I would return to my shift but it appears that it is already over."  ~~Little white lies never hurt anyone.~~

*eh you should go ahead paps. dont you have important sentry business or trainin or somethin to do? ya shouldnt let me keep you. ill be fine."  ~~Little white lies never hurt anyone.~~

"BE THAT AS IT MAY, BROTHER, THEIR IS A TIME FOR WORK AND THEIR IS A TIME FOR FAMILY. WE SHOULD 'HANG OUT' TOGETHER - WE ARE BROTHERS, ARE WE NOT?"

*heh heh. fine then bro. we can  _chill_ today if ya really wanna."

You both go through the motions. Joke, fume, chuckle, and go downstairs to watch TV like nothing is wrong. And everything's fine, really, you tell yourself.

Normally Sans would doze off within minutes once you and him are sprawled out on the couch but he doesn't. There's nightmares out there in his dreams. Fear. He just laughs and only panics a little the few times he almost slips off into  ~~horror~~ dreamland. Nothing too bad, thank goodness! Just the usual.

Still. You pat his shoulder every once in a while, smile, groan at all his puns - like any good and great brother would. It makes him happy, you think. Or at least you hope so.

**Author's Note:**

> I lied it's mostly sad.


End file.
